


Can't Keep My Eyes Off Of You

by TwoCatsTailoring



Series: The Lives Within [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-23 20:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: In a rare, brief, off-duty moment, Cor and Monica have time to consider the drawbacks and benefits to taking their professional relationship further.





	1. Chapter 1

Cor stood at the railing overlooking the rotunda watching as King Regis and Prince Noctis, pushed in his wheelchair by the young Princess Lunafreya, made their way towards the double doors that would take them down to the glade where a picnic lunch was planned. Queen Sylva and Prince Ravus had gone earlier, overseeing the last of the preparations.

Noctis was smiling and had been all day. That act alone felt like a weight off Cor’s shoulders and when Monica joined him on the balcony, she seemed to feel it too. “I know you don’t like it,” she said conversationally, “But I’m glad His Majesty wanted us to stay behind.”

“Our job is to see to the safety of the Royal Family and we are surrounded on all sides by Niflheim’s lands,” he began, the objections he’d had on repeat since they arrived in Tenebrae coming almost without any effort now.

“And for an afternoon tea party in the shrubs, I’m sure the Glaives can handle anything that happens.” Monica folded her hands in front of her and studied him carefully. But not too carefully because that would lead to trouble.

It already had before more than once. Long looks over conference tables bringing touches of red into his cheeks when called back to earth. The demonstration of proper holds to trainees lingering several seconds too long when her hand or his would catch a swath of skin instead of nice, safe clothes. The battle of wills – stubbornness against pride – not being about who was right but about who didn’t want to back off first when their faces were that close together.

And she didn’t even want to think about the fact that ordinary conversations always seemed to end with the two of them in each other’s personal space now, backing off slightly startled by how normal that seemed. It really was getting out of hand.

“You just don’t like not having something you have to do.”

Had she been nearly anyone else he would have been annoyed about her being right. Clarus he would have argued with. Regis he would have denied and deflected. Cid would have gotten a deep eye roll and Weskham would have not gotten any sort of reaction because he would have found something for Cor to do before he could react.

Sometimes, he missed Weskham. Because if he were here right now, Cor would be doing something other than watching a harpist set up and begin playing in the rotunda below. And whether that had been polishing shoes or picking flowers it would have been more professional than holding out his hand to Monica and saying, “Dance with me.”

Which was exactly what he’d just done so there was no going back now. Unless she refused. Which she almost did, taking a half-step back and surveying him while the battle raged in her head. She should say no. Definitely say no, make up something she needed to go do, then go hide in the bathroom until he left because there was no way that this was sane.

He was on his way up still, climbing through the ranks just a notch below the King’s Shield. She was too but there was a definite gap there now. She’d chased him with everything that she had in her until she realized about a decade before that there were things that she would just never get to. And his level was one of them.

The realization that there were things that she was brilliant at that he was hopeless in had come pretty quickly after that, when he’d proved himself navigationally challenged by ignoring her advice and getting them lost in Leide, nearly killed by sabertusks of all things, and having to explain all that to Marshal Amicitia alone while she got stitched up in medical. He had not done a very good job of it and had landed on towel duty for two weeks for, as the Marshal had put it, “Being an impressive git.”

The point being that if she reached out and took his hand right now that would be crossing a very obvious line between professionalism and… and… something else. And while there weren’t any hard and fast rules against fraternization within the ranks, it still wasn’t something that was done that often. Plus, every instance of it that she could remember had ended messily, with hurt feelings and tension and usually at least one black eye.

Or maybe, some traitorous little voice inside of her said, maybe it wouldn’t. The music was lovely, soft and light so maybe a dance could just be a dance. They both had what amounted to an afternoon off. What would be the harm in spending just a little bit of it having fun?

“I knew you’d come around,” Cor said with a smile once her hand was in his. He was well aware of all the problems that could arise when romance was added to the Crownsguard mix. He’d given a few of those black eyes, reminding angry former lovers that their first and last loyalty was to the Crown. But he was also sure that neither he nor Monica would ever forget that.

After all, one of his favorite things about her was her reliable good sense. That was always right at the surface, enjoyable even at a distance. Because it was no way to guarantee that he’d get to be as close as this. Close enough to catch the flowery scent of her shampoo or feel the warmth of her skin through her shirt as they moved together, circling slowly on the sunlit balcony.

“Full of yourself as always.” There wasn’t any malice behind the words now like there had been when they were both younger. Monica easy to anger in her envy and Cor happy to oblige with a hot temper and sharp tongue. But that was a long time ago now, age bringing responsibility, tempering, and wisdom to them both. Maybe not enough wisdom for her to turn down this ‘simple dance’ that was slowing down with every step but enough to know that there would be consequences for the decision later.

Wisdom enough to realize that each moment you are given only comes once and sometimes, like on a quiet afternoon with a harp in the background and a cool breeze through the trees ruffling soft pale hair and the light hitting icy blue eyes just right, you just have to live in that moment.

His sound of agreement was lost against her lips and anything she had to say after that was pushed to the back of her mind by the realization that she now had proof that he’d been sneaking all the strawberry candies out of the dish in the sitting room because she could taste them on his tongue. But even that thought got pushed back and away, lost in the gentle humming pleasure of being wrapped up in one another at last. His fingers splayed across her cheek, brushing her ear, pulling her up while she tugged him down, arms around his neck and hands in his hair.

A cloud slipped over the sun and the leaves rustled more urgently as their first kiss ended and Monica, blinked up, a retort drying in her throat. Those were not clouds.

“Imperials. Cor….”

“Right behind you, go!”


	2. Homecoming

Monica’s arm was going numb but she would be damned if she moved. Talcott, exhausted by worry but too frightened of the encroaching night to settle for the night, had fallen asleep in her arms and there was no force on earth that could make her move now. Not her own exhaustion, not the scratching of Iris or Dustin in the kitchen, nothing.

Not even Cor, finally back and easing open the bedroom door. He’d been gone for too long, out of range of phone service or contact of any sort. Honestly, she had tried not to worry. Tried not to be concerned as a ‘few days’ stretched into a week. Then two. Then two and a half. She had enough to do to fill the waking hours – they couldn’t even be called day anymore with more than half of them given over to night and the others growing darker with every passing hour – but when it as time for sleep?

Well, Talcott wasn’t the only one having trouble with sleep.

Cor eased across the floor, boots in hand so that he didn’t wake anyone with his clomping. She was a sight for sore eyes. After all the destruction of Altissia, after the strained and painful rendezvous with Noctis and his guard at Cartanica, after having the leave them there. The fight back, the palpable fear in every person he encountered. After all of that and then some, there was nothing so relieving to him as seeing her face again.

Monica put a finger to her lips in warning for Cor to be quiet, not to wake the sleeping eight-year-old in her arms and he nodded in understanding. He sat his boots silently by the bed and turned, arching over Talcott and lifting Monica’s face to his, foreheads pressed together for just a moment before kissing her, long and gently.

“Welcome home,” she breathed when they parted. “Well, home for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Tumblr's FFXV RarePairs Week, Day 8: whispers in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm pretty sure that I'm the only person who ships this, but for those interested, [I've written about it already. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10572288/chapters/23360403)
> 
> Day 3 of Tumblr's FFXV Rarepair Week: Dancing.


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